


Hurricane

by geekboyzayn



Series: Night of The Hunter [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coven Leader!Louis, M/M, Vampire!Zayn, Werewolf!Niall, self pleasure, vampire!Harry, vampire!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekboyzayn/pseuds/geekboyzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn has always watched his prey before he goes after them. It’s the life of a vampire, the life of a hunter, a predator. It’s when he finds himself obsessively stalking one young Irish bartender, that he feels his watching may be getting the best of his better judgement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> Pt.2 of the NoTH series. Probably my favorite part of the series.

Harry was listless. It wasn’t often that Zayn stayed out this early, the clouds spattered with pinks and oranges as the sun began to make its ascent into the sky. He was worried, biting at the knuckle of his forefinger as he sat near the window, surveying the road and walk ways for any sign of the olive skinned male. He needed to be back soon, needed to be back before the day hit.

Large hands combed through the young looking lads mess of chocolate brown curls, pushing them to the right side of his head before dropping his shoulders with a drawn out sigh. He’d been noticing the recent extended period of time his friend had spent out, how he sometimes just waltzed in before sunrise, sullen and silent. Harry didn’t ask why he was so withdrawn, didn’t bother to say anything, just smiled from his normal place on the couch, standing to finally draw the curtains closed and to retire to bed. But tonight was different. Zayn was late, Zayn was very late.

Harry didn’t like worrying, he didn’t like having to be the only one that cared about Zayn’s wellbeing, but he was and the pressure of that was tearing at what little sanity he had left. Zayn was his rock, his safe place and knowing that he could be burning to death on the side of street made every little ounce of blood in Harry’s body freeze. He was too scared to leave the apartment; to go look, petrified of even the bit of light that poke over the horizon and burned his eyes. Harry was timid and fearful and it was only when Zayn was around that he even felt like the immortal being that he was.

What was the point of being supernaturally better than everyone and yet too damn scared to leave your own home? Harry cursed, falling to the floor with a small thud, brows knitting together. Unsure and frighten and so damn tired, but couldn’t sleep not when Zayn was not back yet. He needed to be back.

“Harry.”

Thin frame jumped at his name, turning his wide eyes on the person now slipping through the open balcony door. In an instant Harry was on his feet rushing over to slightly shorter male, biting hard at his lip. His hands lifted to mess at Zayn’s hair, noting quickly it was disheveled and no longer upright and almost immediately needing to fix it for him. Harry didn’t want to immediately mother Zayn, didn’t immediately want to care, but it was hard not just letting himself fall into the role. “W-where have you been?” Harry could swear his voice didn’t skip this often; he swallowed nothing and licked at his chapped lips.

Zayn should have known this would come, he’d come home to it too many times to not expect it tonight. A frown was tight on his lips; jacket closed hiding his ripped tank top, hiding his sins. Zayn glared past Harry’s hands when he started flit about with his hair, staring at the younger male before swatting his muddling fingers away, taking a step back with a warning growl. He hated how the younger boy fussed and worried, mothered him. If it wasn’t Harry breathing down his neck about coming back too close to sunrise or not eating then he had-

“Glad you managed to get back Zayn.”

Louis…

There was a silent moment, one in which Zayn wished the floor would just open up and swallow him. He wanted to just rip open the blinds and allow his body to be singe in the burning light. Anything would be better than that voice. He could see Harry visibly tremble and then back away from Zayn, eyes averted, glancing to the floor. Zayn wanted to shake the other boy, tell him to gain a small bit of back bone, but then he’s shivered now too, hasn’t he? Zayn can’t help it though; it’s always been like this. For the past ninety seven years.

Has it been that long already?

Eternity does seem to drag on.

“I’m sure you’re thrilled.” It was muttered quickly, Zayn flickered his gaze over his shoulder, noting the pair of dull blue eyes suddenly flash a bright red. He should have figured this was going to be the outcome. Once again in the shit house for his actions and Zayn was once again caught between a rock and a hard place. Olive skin crawled with a sudden sickness at the pit of his stomach, feeling a hand curl around the back of his neck. He could almost feel Louis smile as it creased his ‘forever young’ face.

“D-did you have a good night Louis?” The pitiful stutter of a question should not have come from such a deep voiced source. Zayn glanced in the curly hair lad’s direction, glaring for a moment before straightening himself, wanting to casually step from the grasp, but Louis fingers gripped his neck in warning and Zayn relaxed his limbs. Like an animal tied to the post, what was the point of running.

“I suppose…Did you even leave this time, Harry?” The question threw a hint of malice towards the young male causing Harry to visibly flinch, shaking his head in shame. The boy tried so hard, tried so fucking hard and Louis only seemed to just shut down every attempt Harry could muster to normalize their relationship. Zayn growled, low and deep in the back of his throat so the older male could feel it in his fingers. Two pairs of red eyes meeting for a moment, one excited hoping for a fight, the other filled with a pure seething loathing. It was like a game of cat and mouse in which both members were the cat and mouse was the dominance that hung in the air between them.

Louis made a small movement, dragging his hand from the back of Zayn’s neck to his shoulder before roughly shoving Zayn back, slamming the slightly taller male into the nearest wall roughly, like he was a rag doll. Louis was in a fit of excited giggles and Zayn was near ready to spring back at him to rip and tear at his throat because he was just so finished with Louis shit. But he stopped, Harry was shaking, watching them with wide eyes and hand clasped over his mouth and Zayn controlled the seething rage. His posture straightened, rolling his shoulder then stepping past both of them. “I’m going to bed.”

“Aww you’re no fun.”

“Fuck you, Louis.” Zayn disappeared down the dark hallway, eye lids suddenly feeling heavy, the tiredness that had been clinging to his bones was finally seeping into his body and the pulsating pain radiating from his back and neck was finally felt. Finger tips slid up to press to the cold skin, mouth forming a string of curses that would end with Louis name, but he stopped himself. Louis hadn’t done this; Louis hadn’t made him ache like this. A small curving smile graced Zayn’s lips as he shoved the door of his bedroom open, quickly slamming it closed and encasing himself in the blanketing opaque darkness.

There was a click of a locked door-not that it mattered really and Zayn shrugged out of his jacket, the remnant shreds of his tank top falling with it. Long fingers moved to trace the series of bumps and soft pains that painted his neck and shoulder, finger tips adding pressure and Zayn hissed with the feeling, memories flooding him again. Niall. 

Zayn slid his hand once more over the skin. He could feel the small raised bumps that formed a neat crescent shape over his collar bone. Teeth marks. Pads of his fingers pressed hard into the mark, the pressure causing a hiss of pain to fall from his lips. It was a delicious, memory retrieving pain, a smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth, head tilting sub consciously to the side. It had only been an hour or so since the rendezvous in the alley, an hour too much since Zayn had that perfect mouth on his skin. Fingers slid lower over his chest, hand splayed over the skin. The touch wasn’t the same, his hand too cold, too dead.

He needed that heat, the warmth that had radiated over his whole body. The heat he craved. He craved Niall.

Hand dropped from his chest, balling in a tight fist before an exasperated sigh left his parted lips. Zayn was tense, more so than he should be considering what had happened not too very long ago. It was what living with the other two males was doing to him. Harry pulled at the patience Zayn had, always needing to be near him, always worried over his wellbeing and sure it was a nice gesture, but Zayn didn’t need it and definitely didn’t want it.

Shoulders rolled, the muscles in his back twitching out of the knots they’d relaxed into. Zayn was tired, but he lacked the will to even try to sleep. Fingers combed through his messed hair, biting on his lip at the realization of why it had looked like shambles when he arrived home. All these thoughts were send a wave of arousal through his body, coursing down his spine and landing like a heavy weight in his groin. He was over sexualizing all these memories and all the extra thoughts he added in were not helping Zayn stop himself from falling into another hopelessly endless pit of craving that he was having for the werewolf.

Another bite to his lip and Zayn unclenched his hand, flexing his fingers for a minute before he brought it back to rest on the marks on his neck. The sensation of pressure again where teeth had once been, sent another shock down his spine and Zayn his dick twitch. Lovely, one second he was in a seething rage and now he was tempted to rip his nuts off.

Then again he was tense; Zayn presumed it was okay to take care of that. He was in the safety of his own company, locked away in the dark as he should be. Not to mention he was technically still a young man, still a teen by all cause, even though he’d blown out nineteen non-existent candles ninety-seven years ago. So what was a wank, but a way to relieve a bit of tension?

Hand slid once more down his own chest, pressing intricately to the places were strong pale fingers had pressed, trailing lower until he finally added pressure to where it needed to be. Zayn palmed himself through his jeans, causing a muffled groan to slip between his clenched lips. He could feel the sudden sharp pinch of his own teeth cutting into his lip, an unconscious reaction to the arousal. The metal tang of blood sat on his tongue, something he was all too familiar with and a small chuckle echoed from his throat.

He was getting so worked up and the reason behind it all wasn’t even around, but Niall lingered. His smell still lingered on Zayn’s body and he had good idea it still clung to his jacket as well. The marks he’d made into Zayn’s skin would stay for a little while longer, though they would fade faster than normal; it was the outcome of having a heightened healing factor. The biggest reminder was the memories and as long as he could Zayn would keep them, locked away so no one could see (no one largely being Louis) and no one could bother him with the need for details. They were his details left and made only for him.

Zayn moved soundlessly across the room, falling back on his bed, eyes closed for a moment, tongue slipping between his lips to wet them. His fingers worked quickly to unclasp his jeans, a soft groan echoing from his parted lips, glad to have the slight allowance of freedom once they were slid down his legs, kicked off to pile on the floor. Zayn’s hand moved to quickly slip beneath his boxers, wrapping his fingers around his length and giving a slow tug, mind instantly picturing another’s hand.

He felt like a teenage boy again doing this. Back on the streets in London, running around with the other newsboys, causing all the shit they used to. He remembered selling a paper to the prettiest woman he’d ever seen and then locking himself in the wash closet until he couldn’t imagine her anymore and his arm became too tired to continue. He was rambunctious and virile and sixteen years old. Still a kid, but hell he felt like a man and when he’d finally grew into his mental image of himself a year or so later, most of the girls knew he was a man too and a few of the other boys had become so inclined to learn this fact also. He’d been curious back then, more so because he truly didn’t have to worry. No one paid any attention to his crowd of orphans or poor boys trying to make a living selling a paper or two and because of that; no one paid any mind to the gender of who Zayn was sticking his dick into. It was his business and his tastes.

Then again it was this damn curious nature mixed in with the hormones and the confidence that got him in his current situation. Perhaps not the current wanking situation (that had been done due to his steely will and determination) but the vampire situation, definitely. He’d met Louis in the same fashion he’d met any other person of interest and things had ended poorly after that.

A moan caught in his throat, a surge of pleasure hitting his body, sending a shiver straight up his spine, curling his toes and making his teeth clamp harshly down on his bottom lip. It was a scramble to free his hips of the clinging material of his boxers, falling like his pants to the ground. The cool chill of his room eased over his body, and it mixed with the sudden burning heat that emanated from his groin. 

Grip tightened, pace a bit faster, twisting his palm over the head of his dick, collecting any precum and using it to make the movements smoother. His mind continuously playing the image of Niall working him over, the way his hot mouth felt wrapped around his cock. It was a pleasant memory and one he could recant over and over again in the greatest of detail. He could still remember the number of times a tongue had swirled over the head of length, the amount of time that it had taken to suck him dry. It was an almost embarrassing number, but he was at the mercy of a master. No man would blame him.

It took only a few more minutes of heavy imagination use and his room soon echoed with the moaned name of his werewolf on his tongue, orgasm striking him hot and heavy. Zayn’s chest heaved with pants, mismatched breathing patterns shaking his body, sweat lightly coating his skin. He smelled of sex again, and a lazy grin took place on his face, eyes closed taking a moment to collect himself.

That was what he’d needed. The tension in his body was now gone. The rage and the hatred dissipated as soon as blonde hair and blue eyes took over his brain. He was hopelessly addicted and there was no way he was going to willing free himself of this new vice. They’d have to drag him away in chains and he’d fight each step of the way like the monster he was.

Lifting slowly, Zayn steadied himself, legs still partially jelly. He needed to clean himself off. A yawn escaping his lips as he moved towards the attached bathroom, a shower and then a nap. It was all he needed, all he’d be able to muster before he returned to the comfort of the night. Ready to fulfill plans earlier made. 

—-

The shower had run quickly, washing away any signs of his filthy mind, and any smell of sex and dog that may have clung to him from earlier. He’d stood in the steamed bathroom, looking over the marks on his skin once more, fingers trailing over them as an almost non-existent smirk peeked out form the corner of his mouth. Zayn would have been lying if he’d stated he hadn’t wanted more of it.

After a few more minutes the olive skinned vampire slipped out from his bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips. He’d walked to the dresser, completely oblivious to the other presence in the room until it was far too late. 

His body was pinned forward, slammed against the wall beside the dresser. One hand pressed his face against the wall as the other clenched mercilessly at the skin on his hip. Zayn hissed in pain, fangs dropping below his top lip as his eyes searched over his shoulder for the individual man handling him. Not that he needed the visual reassurance; the giggles gave Louis away too quickly. “Get off of me.”

“You’re pretty fucking cheeky.” Louis leaned forward, growling the words into Zayn’s ear. “Coming back to my home, smelling like the pound. D’you think I wouldn’t notice?” When Zayn didn’t answer he felt his body pressed harder into the wall, grip tightening on his neck and his hip. He didn’t give the satisfaction Louis was looking for, simply grinning at the fact he’d found something to piss Louis off more. “I could kill you right here, rip your head right off. “

There was a yank of Zayn’s hair and his head was snapped back, a snarl of pain releasing as he eyes flew to meet the cold, dead blue pair that stared back at him with a grin. “I won’t though and you want to know why?” Louis giggled, leaning down, lips curved into smirk before pressing softly to the permanent scar of two puncture wounds on the junction of Zayn’s neck.

“Because you’re mine forever…no matter what you fuck.” And with that Zayn was released, tossed away as the older vampire left, laughter trailing after him. “So, see you after your date, love. See you when the sunrises.”

The words echoed into Zayn’s mind, not fading as he hoped they would. The hatred reclaiming his body, but it was no longer directed at his antagonist. He hated himself for seeing the truth in Louis words. There was no staying; he was dependent, no matter how he may fight it on Louis. His life was Louis life, one he’d shared and would take with him if he died. It was the red string of fate that tightly wove himself around his master that kept him from everyone else.

Zayn stood against the wall for a moment, forehead falling forward against the cool wall, an exasperated breath leaving his lips. A fist clenched, slamming against the wall, lips curled into a snarl before falling limply back to his side. “Fuck you, Louis.”


End file.
